So the little band forgot their enmities, and that evening, at least, were happy. Already both the invalids declared that they were feeling better, and they looked forward to the time when they should be fully recovered. The four weeks that followed were uneventful. ’Squire Hardy seemed to have forgotten his enmity, though if Rob ever met him he scowled darkly upon him and turned away. The authorities of the town in which the old red house stood ignored entirely the new inhabitants within their jurisdiction. Thus the close of this month of peace to the young republic found Rob still working for Deacon Cornhill, who was lingering with a slow fever, from which it would take him many weeks longer to fully recover. Little Hickory continued to go home every night, and during the odd moments that he could get he assisted the small boys in the task of caring for the growing crops. Joe was really the master spirit at home now, and others must have been struck by the new phase of life taken on at Break o’ Day. The old house had been repaired, cleaned and so altered in appearance that it presented a look of comfort, if not of comeliness. Just below the smooth, green yard, the scene of the settlement of the mastery between Little Hickory and Larry Little, was a garden of fresh-growing plants, which was a source of unlimited pride and pleasure to the dwellers in the old house. Dr. Menter had proved a true prophet in the case of Mr. Little and Mrs. Willet. The first was already able to sit in the doorway on warm, pleasant days, enjoying both the sunshine and the country air. Mrs. Willet, very much to Joe’s joy, was in the habit of sitting by one of the windows, the color coming back to her countenance and the strength to her tired body, due largely to the pure air and the sunshine. One cloud now rested on their everyday lives. Dr. Menter had bade them good-by for several months, while he took a much-needed vacation in Europe. “This seems too good to last,” declared Aunt Vinnie, who seemed always looking for the clouds. “Let us enjoy the sun while we may, auntie,” said Joe, in her buoyant way. “See how beautifully the sun is setting behind yonder rim of mountains. It makes me in love with the country, and I never, never want to see the hot, dusty city again. I don’t see what makes Rob so late to-night. He thought he would get home early.” Perhaps it is well we cannot read what is taking place beyond our sight, or light-hearted Joe would have shuddered at that moment over the fortunes of her youthful lover. Let us see what Rob is doing at this moment. In going back and forth between Break o’ Day and the home of Deacon Cornhill he had found the west route by way of the “Flying Jump” his best course, it being nearly a mile shorter, though more broken at places.